Trapped
by the ticking clock
Summary: Tony's eyes cut to him. "You okay?" It's a stupid question. Bruce closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. "Yeah." It's a stupid answer.


**Please excuse any medical inaccuracies...**

Bruce wakes up covered in rubble and naked.

Flinching, he probes his side, checking for broken bones. His ribs are slightly sore, but other than a faint bruising nothing seems to be broken. Blinking dust from his eyes, he stumbles to his feet, pushing away chunks of rock.

He's standing in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It's night, or early morning, he can't really tell. Regardless, it's dark outside, and the only light is the faint flickering of an overhead florescent. One of the walls is gone, smashed by the Big Guy, probably. Shivering, Bruce picks his away across the rubble, rubbing his arms as memories start to come back-a battle, Tony screaming something, Cap looking at him with wide, worried eyes, Natasha smiling with blood on her teeth, a sudden fall, a body in his arms, pain-

_Tony. _

Tony is somewhere in this room. Bruce knows it suddenly, feels it in the ache of his hands and the strain of his arms-he's carried Tony before, and knows how heavy that metal suit can be.

"Tony," he hisses. He doesn't want to shout. His heart is pounding in his chest, to loud and to fast, heat flooding his body. His breath hitches roughly in his throat. 'Tony?"

Nothing.

Bruce concentrates on his breathing as he begins to pull at the rocks around him, trying to piece where exactly he might have dropped Tony. The Big Guy likes him, and he wouldn't have just carelessly flung Tony aside if he had a choice.

"Tony!" This time he does shout. It doesn't really matter if anyone can hear him. Hell, they _should _hear him. He doesn't carry communication on him when he's the Hulk, and his only hope of getting help is to be loud.

There is a faint glow in a crack through two rocks.

"Tony!" Bruce hooks his fingers under the stone and _heaves. _He's still a man, but he is strong. With a faint, whining protest, the rock comes free. Bruce sees an arm.

"Tony?"

Nothing.

Bruce can no longer control his pounding heart, but he fights with his breath, forcing it to be slow and steady. Deep, controlled breaths.

_Calm. _He has to stay _calm. _

He kicks, pushes, pulls and shoves more rocks until he exposes the dented metal of Iron Man's helmet. The visor is closed, the glowing eyes dim. Tony's arc reactor is still glowing in his chest, which Bruce supposes is a good sign. The Iron Man suit is terribly dented along the shoulder and left side. Tony's legs are still trapped under the rock, and Bruce can't free him.

He swallows hard.

_Calm. _

Gently, he slips his fingers along Tony's helmet, feeling for the cracks and creases. "JARVIS," he whispers, hoping against all hope that the AI can still hear him. "I need you to lift Tony's visor please." Tony had taught him one time how to pry the helmet off, and Bruce struggles to remember now. His head is pounding, which might be from the stress or the injuries but he can't tell. He can't focus on that now.

The Iron Man suit hums a little under his fingers, perhaps Jarvis had heard him? Bruce tugs lightly at the visor, and it slides through with a grind of metal on metal.

Tony is unconscious, his head rolling slightly to the side. Blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth. Bruce rocks back on his heels. He's cold and terrified and desperately wants a pair of pants. But he is a doctor. Sighing shakily, Bruce fumbles for Tony's pulse, pressing his fingers against the other man's clammy skin. He holds his breath, wondering if he really feels that stuttering heartbeat or if he's imagining it because he wants it to be there. He decides that he's not imagining anything. Tony is alive.

"Sorry about this," Bruce says, and lightly slaps Tony's cheek.

The man's head rolls to the side, limp.

Bruce slaps him again. "Wake up, you idiot."

After several more frantic pulse checks and Bruce struggling to stay in his own skin, Tony's eyes flicker open. The pupils are blown out-concussion-and he takes a good thirty seconds to focus on Bruce's face.

"Do you know who I am?" Bruce asks. His voice is eerily calm, even to his own ears. His heart is pounding so hard and so loud that he almost doesn't hear it. His breathing is steady and even, though. He can feel the Big Guy crawling in the corner of his mind, protective and raw energy.

Tony swallows hard. "Yeah," the word is barely audible, a scratching whisper. His eyes flicker down. "You, um, aren't wearing clothes."

Bruce presses his hands to his head, smiling despite himself. "No, I'm not."

"Well," Tony coughs, and Bruce sees with alarm a faint spray of blood leave his lips, "this is a beautiful moment." His voice still has that whisper-like quality, lacking Tony's usual snark. Bruce leans over him, pressing fingers to his neck, checking his pulse. "Tony you need to stay awake, alright?"

"Sure," the whisper is slurred.

Bruce slaps him, lightly. "Come on. Do you have a way to call the others?"

Tony blinks, as if not comprehending. He's confused. "um-"

"Do you have a phone?" Bruce makes his question more specific.

Tony's face twists. "No, the suit, it, um-"

"Okay, okay." Bruce shakes his head. _Calm. _"We'll just have to figure something out. Don't move, okay?"

Tony coughs something like a laugh. "Of course, Doctor. I can't really feel my body, so..." he coughs again, as if that should be funny. Maybe to Tony's bizarre, concussed brain, it is.

Bruce needs to keep him talking. "Well," he says, "are you in pain?"

The other man rolls his eyes. "I'm not even going to answer that, Big Guy. I'm buried under the wall of a freaking building."

"Right." Bruce casts his eyes skyward. _Thor, _he thinks in an act of stupid desperation, _if thunder gods hear prayers, get over here NOW. _

"Do you know what happened to the others?" Tony asks. Bruce is surprised that the other man is the one asking the questions. But then again, nothing distracts Tony more than talking.

"No," Bruce says. He keeps one hand on the side of Tony's neck, monitoring his pulse every few breaths. The other man does not protest. Maybe he understands that the faint thump of Tony's heart is the only thing keeping Bruce remotely calm.

"They'll find us," Tony says, almost careless. "I mean, who doesn't notice when half of a building is missing?"

Bruce doesn't say what he's thinking. That the others could be dead. They could be trapped. They could be too injured to move or call for help. "Yeah," he says instead. "We'll be okay."

_We'll be okay._

* * *

Bruce loses track of the time. The sky is slightly lighter than it had been when he'd first woken, and Tony's becoming more and more delirious. Bruce holds the other man in his lap as Tony whispers mindless math equations and scientific formulas at Bruce's prompting.

"Hey," Bruce says after Tony's eyes start to drift close. "Don't go to sleep. I don't know the answer to that last one."

"Shut up," Tony whispers. "You know you do."

"Tell me anyway." Tony's increasing pallor is starting to worry him.

"Polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbon," the words blend together, choppy and fumbling, but Bruce hears them.

"Very good," Bruce praises, half teasing. "Now, tell me what is the square root of twenty five?"

The other man snorts. "I'm not even going to answer that."

"For me?" Bruce prods. "Come on, I listened to that whole story about-"

"Fine, fine," Tony winces at some pain, shifting slightly. "five."

"Good."

"Bruce?"

"Yes?" Bruce tilts his head back to the ceiling, at that stupid, stuttering florescent. At the lights of the city he can make out through the blown out wall. Surely the others will come looking for them...

"Am I a bad person?"

Bruce blinks. Normally this is Pepper's area of expertise. Still, he'd sat with Steve and Tony on several drunken nights. "No," he says, firm. "You are decidedly not a bad person."

Tony coughs again. "Thanks."

There doesn't seem to be much to be said, now. Bruce sits still and silent, silently praying that someone, anyone would find them.

"Hey," Tony says suddenly, "Tell-"

"Tell her yourself," Bruce cuts him off, fiercely. His head is pounding and he doesn't know how much longer he can remain calm.

Tony's eyes cut to him. "You okay?"

It's a stupid question. Bruce closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. "Yeah."

It's a stupid answer.

* * *

Tony eventually slips into unconsciousness, and Bruce lets him. He can't keep Tony awake forever. He'll wake him in an hour, if he can keep track of the time.

Pressing trembling fingers to his head, Bruce folds in on himself, "I can't do this," he whispers, the words half a growl. His chest aches, the Big Guy is roaring in the back of his mind, sensing his mounting stress.

_Calm. _

Tony's pulse stutters under his fingertips.

_Calm. _

"We'll be okay," Bruce whispers, thinking of Natasha, whispering those words so long ago in a falling hellcarrier, "we'll be okay."

_We'll be okay._

* * *

Steve finds them.

Bruce almost doesn't recognize him, not at first. Captain America is a dark shadow in the flickering florescent light. The Hulk roars in his mind, and Bruce just manages to shut him out with a sharply exhaled breath. Tony is still in his lap, but his pulse is steady under Bruce's fingers.

Steve barks an order, and Bruce relaxes at that familiar voice. The other's surge to life around him, Natasha swings on a cable into the rubble and runs to him. "We need medical in here!"

Dropping to her knees beside him, She flashes him a smile. There's blood on the side of her face, but she doesn't seem to notice. "Cold?"

It takes Bruce half a second to remember that he isn't wearing any clothes. Suddenly embarrassed, he stutters something, but she smiles tightly-still unnerved by the days events probably-and tosses him some pants. "Picked these up at Stark Tower."

"Thanks," Bruce gently slides Tony's head into her lap. She leans over him, checking his vitals and hissing into her com for backup.

Bruce pulls on the pants and stumbles towards Steve.

The Captain is running over, but pulls up short, reaching out a hand to grip Bruce's arm. "Are you alright?"

Despite his youth and the ease with which he commands them, Steve is terrified. Bruce can see it in his eyes, in the edge to his voice when he asks that question, the way his fingers curl against Bruce's arm, strong enough to bruise.

"I'm alright," Bruce says quickly, gratefully, "Tony-"

"Agent Hill is sending medical in," Steve says, "is he conscious?"

"He was for awhile, but..."

Steve claps him on the shoulder. "He'll be fine. Are you sure you're alright?"

_No. _

"Yeah," Bruce says, and forces a smile. "I'll be fine."

* * *

Bruce sits with Pepper in Tony's overcrowded hospital room, listening to the steady beat of the heart monitors. The man had broken his shoulder, two ribs and his right leg was fractured. The doctor had assured them that Tony would make a full recovery.

Pepper cuts her eyes at him. She hasn't been crying, but her eyes are red and strained. She bites her lip. "Thank you, Bruce, for what you did today."

He waves away her praise. "Really, Pepper-"

"No," she says, hand on his arm. "Natasha told me that you held him and talked to him and without you, he might be dead."

Bruce shakes his head. "Tony's a fighter."

"Tony's an idiot," she says, and laughs. Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

"Hey," Tony calls from the bed. His voice is hoarse and strained, but teasing, "I feel betrayed."

Bruce rolls his eyes, and Pepper lets out something that is somewhere between a scream and a laugh and stalks across the room towards him. Stalks is the only word Bruce can use-she's fury and love. She reminds him of Natasha suddenly.

"I am going to kill you, later," Pepper says, sitting on the edge of Tony's bed and kissing him.

"You can try," Tony quips. He looks to Bruce. His eyes are still sightly unfocused, but more clear than they'd been earlier in the day. "You alright, Big Guy?"

Bruce has stepped to the door. Now that Tony is awake, a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and he knows that his friend wants to be with Pepper. "Yeah," he says, "I'm just going to get something to sleep. Do you want anything?"

Tony winces. "How thoughtful of you. But I'd rather not vomit right now."

Bruce smiles.

The Avengers are outside the room. Steve is leaning against the hospital wall, arms crossed. Clint is sitting on a bench, Natasha's head in his lap. They look up as Bruce steps into the hallway.

"How is he?" Steve asks.

Bruce shrugs. "He's awake. He'll be okay."

Captain America nods. "You should get some sleep, Bruce," his voice is gentle. "I'll stay here. Nat?"

Black Widow detangles herself from Clint's lap and crosses to Bruce. She watches him with guarded eyes, but smiles. He knows that he frightens her, but there is something like trust building between them.

"Come on, Dr. Banner," she says, and loops her arm through his. "Let's go home."

_Home. _

Bruce smiles.


End file.
